The Legend of Masamune
by Mewgia Mirrorcoat
Summary: Before Masamune was a sword, he was a general. But now the spell has been broken, and Masamune must protect the world he's in from the same man who transformed him into the sword.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer:  Don't own Squaresoft (Or Square Enix?), or Final Fantasy, or Masamune THE SWORD.  I do own Masamune as the person.  (THAT was a huge spoiler...^_^)  My ideas behind this are that the sword has passed through all the different Final Fantasy worlds, has been used by all the people we have heard of in those games, and now...well, read.

Masamune

Prologue

How many years in servitude as a weapon of power.  He could no longer remember.  Year after year of being in possession of someone, every single death he had caused in that.  Bloodshed, sometimes terror, sometimes honor.  But always bloodshed.  

He thought he should be used to the idea.  Having once been a famous general, easily defeating armies single-handedly.  None dared to anger him, and even the greatest leaders would beg to have him lead their armies to victory.  He had thought nothing of blood, pain, or fear.  Only conquest, and being the one everyone respected.  

That must have caused some uproar.

What he could remember, was the wizened old man, coming up to him and begging him for money.  He remembered being suspicious of the man.  And the man eventually attacked him a few days later.  And no ordinary man was it.  A sorcerer, changing shape, coming to the general for the purpose of defeating the undefeated.  And succeeding.

He remembered pain and disbelief.  Being paralyzed, unable to move, and darkness.  

He also remembered rising as a spirit, until he could see himself...Shocked to see himself as a sword.

His spirit had been forced to follow the sword for so many years, he could no longer remember.  But death had been ingrained into his mind...people...monsters...that poor flower girl...in fact, death had even wielded him once.

He watched now as the sword lay alone in the void, gleaming in the darkness, a light aura slowly surrounding it.  A direct warmth spread through the air, and he felt himself pulled down, the sword glowing...

Inwardly, he smiled.  Maybe he wasn't quite defeated yet.

After all, I am Masamune.  


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  I don't own anything that obviously doesn't belong to me, like Masamune the sword and Square.  I own the character Morgan Takawa.  I own the band, and the members.  I also own this song, because I wrote the lyrics.  This is my first attempt at writing song lyrics, so if it sounds weird, it's because of that.  If anyone actually wants to use the lyrics and write a song to it, you'll have to email me first, otherwise you will be plagiarizing my work (as has been drilled into me at school…)  Thank you.

Chapter 1

Four people started up another song in the concert hall, college students jumping up and down to the beat.  It was some nice punk, and there weren't many good bands in town, so people came to listen to local productions.  Especially ones performed by fellow students.

Up on stage, one of the guitarists stepped up to the mike, the lead singer of the band.  He beat his head up and down to the beat, long blond hair swishing from side to side.  He was tall, at six feet, and people knew him as a laid back, friendly guy.  The base player grinned next to him, not letting his leather jacket get in the way of his playing.  This member, at 5'9",  was a redhead, hair spiked into various positions.  People remembered him as the loud person in the back who always finished class assignments within two hours, leaving him plenty of time to hang out and mock those studying crazily.  He'd graduated from grad school the year before.  Then came the drummer, who seemed the most normal and clean-cut of the group, with short brown hair and a plain t-shirt.  At 5'7", he was known as a quiet writer in school, but an amazing percussionist.  Finally, came the last (but lead) guitarist, who at 5'1", was one of the shortest people in school.  But there was a reason for that though.

The slender Asian guitarist grinned, brushing back some of her short black hair out of the way.  There were a few streaks of blue in it, recently put in.  She (not so gently) jammed her fingers across the guitar strings, grinning at the harsh sound emitting from it across the stage, to the large audience.  She listened carefully to the drummer, hearing his fast beat and knowing her next notes.  She played along, different chords sounding out in harmony with the base player and the other guitarist.

_Never mind what the media says_

_Cuz' we wonder, is the whole truth out there?_

_The images, magazines, popular ways_

_Honestly, does it really matter what we wear?_

She laughed inwardly as her best friend Josh sang out, his clear voice echoing across the hall.  But she also noted how slightly corny he made it sound.  I'll have to grill him for singing my lyrics that way, she thought.  Then again, she didn't really know how good of a lyric writer she was, so it could have been her fault...but hey, Mike had approved of it when she added the words to his base (she'd worked out the chords beforehand).  For a slight moment, there was a pause in the guitar part, so she took the moment to push some of her hair out of the way.

I just wanna' know, why we care so much 

_Conforming, calling it "reality"_

_Well, if this is reality, and we're left behind_

_Can't we think of a Final Fantasy?_

Heh, Final Fantasy.  She loved those games.  Plus the title had worked well for the song.  She carefully arranged her fingers for the chorus.

Know the truth, forget the lies 

_Knock away the images that bind us_

_Rebel against the stereotypes of society_

_Should we think about complete diversity?_

_That final fantasy..._

Long guitar solo next.  Josh turned to her, and nodded, smiling.  She responded by playing her heart out on the solo – a mix of chords and melody.  She always played her heart out.  Just her and her guitar.  She closed her eyes, simply feeling for the right hand positions and the correct strings.  She knew them by heart anyway.  Nodding her head to Daniel's drum beat, she continued, letting out a final ringing chord.  

We watch violence on the news, we ask 

_Isn't there anything else?_

_What is our reality?  Nothing more than_

_The mainstream media scream?_

_What do they know? That is why_

_Our true reality is more like a fantasy_

_Dream on, my friend.  One day_

_We'll break free of this conformity._

She had gone back to the usual chords by now, and once again shifted to the chorus section.

Know the truth, forget the lies 

_Knock away the images that bind us_

_Rebel against the stereotypes of society_

_Should we think about complete diversity?_

_That final fantasy..._

_Our final fantasy..._

"Celebration people!  Everyone loved your song, Morgan and Mike!  Beer, anyone?" Josh pulled a few cans out of his fridge.  They'd all gone over to Josh and Mike's shared apartment, and were celebrating the successful concert.

At the table, Mike and Daniel both nodded, tired after that night, but Morgan shook her head, pushing a few black and blue strands of hair out of her face.  "You know I don't drink.  I can't risk getting into a car accident on the way home."

"Oh yeah, you live across town," Josh took three of the cans and walked over, setting a can down in front of the other two guys, keeping one for himself and sitting at the table.

Morgan slapped him arm playfully.  "What, you forgot about that?"

Josh laughed as he popped open his can.  "Hell no!  Why would I forget where you lived?"

"Maybe because you're such a forgetful bastard," Mike grinned as he sipped from his own can.  "You said you were gonna clean up the place two weeks ago."

Daniel and Morgan automatically looked around the room, seeing papers, books, CD's recording equipment, wires, and articles of clothing lying around on the floor.  "Definitely the forgetful one," Daniel replied, leaning back in his chair.

Josh groaned and drank.  

"Keep drinking and you'll be more of a forgetful bastard cuz' you'll be hung over," Morgan suddenly pointed out, placing her chin on the table.

Mike grinned at her.  "You're only saying that because you're still in grad school and have to study."

"Along with the other two members of the band," Daniel said matter-of-factly.  "You're the only one who's graduated from grad school."

"So, you shouldn't be saying anything," Josh finished.

Mike glared for a moment at the other three, who had begun laughing.  "Gimme a freakin' break.  This is Friday night, and you're all thinking of studying?"

"Yes," came the plaintive answer.  Mike raised an eyebrow and smacked his forehead.

"You nerds," he replied.

Morgan gave him a mock look of indignant pride.  "Why, how could you think that?  Nerdiness is the road to greatness, if you are willing!  You should know too, programmer!"

Josh joined the conversation.  "Yes!   Us nerds study study study, and try to do well in everything!  The definition of a nerd…I think."

"Definition of Nerd:  A type of small candy coming in two flavors from Wonka.  Comes in a box.  All rights reserved," Daniel suddenly chimed in.

A pause passed, and then the four began laughing again.

"Really?  I thought it meant something else!" Morgan added.  "Almost like how the word 'geek' originally was the word for someone who bites heads off chickens!"

Josh looked at her incredulously.  "Chickens.  Of all things, chickens!!!  Why not turkeys?!"

"...How the hell did we get on this subject in the first place?" Mike tipped his head to one side.

All eyes turned to Morgan, who glared back at them, before giving them a wry grin.  

Life was good in these times.  Everyone had their summer term off, and each person had a good income from random jobs that had been taken the past few years.  Year Finals were coming up, which meant normally, the three of them still in grad school would be studying in the library or somewhere likewise.  But performing a first concert, and having people liking your music, tended to give you a good feeling, and good feelings led to parties or celebrations if they were good enough.  Yes, all was good.  (And yes, her thoughts were quite redundant...)

She laughed, leaning back in her chair.  "Whatever."  Morgan sighed.  "Screw the whole beer thing.  I'll take a shot glass."

Josh lifted an eyebrow.  "Only a shot glass?  This is a celebration!"

"Celebration or not, I don't want a car accident."

Josh got up, and walked over to the counter.  "You could always ride the bus."

"This late?"

"Either that or one of us could drive you home," Daniel answered, shrugging his shoulders and then resting his chin upon the table.  Morgan and Mike both suppressed a snort, and Josh never saw what happened.

Morgan shook her head.  "No offense, but nah."

Josh finished preparing the very small drink and handed it to Morgan as he came back to the table, but not before Daniel sat up again.  He sat, watching as Morgan picked up the shot glass.  She stared right back.  Josh scratched his head.  "Is there a problem?"

"Do you have to stare at me when I'm drinking?  I'm not that interesting, you know.  Maybe my eyes are a little big, but that's probably it."

"No, I was just looking at those sections of your hair you dyed blue."

Mike lifted an eyebrow.  "That's an interesting thing to look at, Josh.  Especially since your hair is longer than mine."

Josh turned his gaze from Morgan to Mike, and Daniel who had lifted his chin from the table.  Morgan decided to take the moment of non-attentiveness to finish her drink.

"Considering you're the one who decided to bleach your already blond hair - " Mike continued.

"And you gel yours with way too much gel - " Josh noted Mike's red spiked hair.

"And I don't even know how you get onto these topics," Daniel finished, almost rolling his eyes.

There was a slight pause as a bang on the table interrupted the strange conversation.

All three men turned and stared at Morgan, whose head now rested on the table.  Her shot glass had been set down quietly on the table, and next to it lay a head with black hair and some blue strands swirled around it.

Josh lifted both eyebrows in worry.  "Uh...Morgan?"

No answer.

The three men looked at each other.  

Then Morgan sat up again, shaking her head like a wild animal.  "Okay," she demanded, "How long was I out?"

"I'd say about ten seconds," Mike stared at the young woman.  "My God, you are the most alcohol intolerant person I've ever known."

"Shut up!  How was I supposed to know if I haven't had alcohol since my 21st birthday?"

"Maybe you just have a problem with carbon, hydrogen, and hydroxide compounds."

"Damn it, you, you...tall person..."

Josh stood, his eyes full of worry.  "Morgan, I hate to say this, but I think that maybe you were right about the no alcohol thing.  Especially after the concert."

Morgan stood as well, her short stature a significant difference with Josh's six feet.  She looked up at him.  "You got a point..." then she jumped up.  "God, I remember when you used to be shorter than me!  Anyway, I think I'm gonna turn in for the night.  Fun afterparty, great concert though."  She sighed.  Life was so difficult.  

"You sure?" Daniel tipped his head to one side.  "You just passed out after a shot glass of beer..."

"I'll be fine.  See ya tomorrow for rehearsal."

Mike nodded.  "Same place, same time."

"Gotcha."

Damnit, that was weird!  Morgan thought to herself as the drove home a bit later.  I didn't thing that would happen again...it was strange enough to begin with.

Everything that happened around there and the park seemed strange.  She remembered, every time she went over to the apartment, or down to the park a few blocks away especially, feeling a sense of...almost, like power.  Some small normal things affected her more there.

The 24 year old driver turned onto a highway, and blinked away a shred of fatigue.  The entire day had been tiring, setting up for the concert, the concert itself, the afterparty...

And the fact that she had just had a final.  Morgan hated finals.  Nerd or not, she just didn't like them.

Then finally, three weeks of vacation.  That's why Mike was making fun of them.  Who studied vigorously over vacation?  Well, some people, and Morgan happened to be one of them.

How the hell did this happen?  Morgan thought again, blankly driving past a stop sign.  Whoops, uh, sorry, she almost said, but there was no one around at that time of night to notice.  Here she was, a grad student studying neurobiology, who also happened to be a punk rocker guitarist in a band.  The entire group was made up of people who didn't fit into what most people thought of.  Josh, the medical student, Daniel the person everyone thought would turn out as a writer in a newspaper like the New York Times, and Mike the computer programmer.  We're interesting people.

Reaching her apartment, Morgan parked the car, then got out, grabbing her guitar and running up to the front door.  She unlocked it, then entered, closing the door and dropping the guitar down by the side.  She took off her shoes at the entrance – part of coming from her family.  She'd grown up doing that, and would probably stay doing that.

She had a small apartment, with one main room consisting of the kitchen, a table, a couch, and a TV, all bunched together.  There were three other rooms, which were much smaller – a bedroom, bathroom, and practice room.  Right now, she wanted to head straight to the bedroom.  She felt tired, and wanted only to flop down into her bed and sleep.

Nevertheless, she refused to become lazy, and went to get ready for bed, brushing her teeth, putting in her retainer (she still had to wear retainers!  Urgh!) and changing into some more comfortable clothes.  Something still bothered her, a feeling of things "not quite right".  Because of the strange feeling, she grabbed an old staff from the closet, cleared out some space in the main room, and began going through kung fu drills.

There were two things she always did whenever she had the strange feeling, which were meditation and kung fu.  Ideally, she would have meditated, since it was so late, but she had a strong feeling she would fall asleep during the meditation if she did.  So kung fu was her other choice.  

She whirled her staff around, remembering the performances she'd done back in grade school.  She'd only taken the performance routine version of kung fu back then, but it was still useful to know as a nice exercise.  

Morgan continued even after she finished the first drill, trying to make the feeling leave her, like it did sometimes.  As she expected, it didn't.  Instead, it grew, leaving her with a sense of foreboding.  That's new, she thought, stopping the routine.  Nothing had happened like that before.

Deciding to ignore it, and tired, Morgan decided to turn in.  Dropping the staff on the couch, she headed to her room to rest.  

Once she got in her room and turned the lights off, she lay in her bed with the covers up.  She would have fallen asleep right there and then, but something else happened instead.

A bright flash lit the room, nearly blinding her for a moment.  Recovering from the flash, she thought she heard a thump next to the bed.  "The hell?" she blinked, jumping up out of her bed and turning on the light.  What she saw was a complete shock.

A man, maybe 25 or so, lay on the floor at the foot of her bed.  (Morgan had probably jumped over him in her attempt to get off the bed...) He had black hair pulled tightly into a bun on top of his head, and his outfit became complete with a full garb of samurai armor and sword.  He was well built and muscular.

This woke Morgan up considerably.  After all, it wasn't every day one found a Japanese samurai in their house.  Not quite knowing what to do, she stared for a few moments.  Carefully going up to the warrior, she poked him a couple times, then checked for his pulse.  He seemed alive, at least.  Out cold, maybe.  

Not about to let an unconscious man sit on the floor overnight, Morgan decided to get him to the couch.  Propping her bedroom door open, she tried to lift the man.  Or at least drag him.  Neither quite worked.  Damn it, she thought, why do I have to be so physically weak?!?!  Changing her mind, she worked for a little bit trying to get the man onto the bed, and finally managed after a little while.  Taking another glance at him, she turned off the lights and left the room.

"I'm hallucinating, I'm going crazy, I'm drunk or something, this is too weird!" she paced for a moment, not sure what to make of the situation.  "If he's still here tomorrow..." with another thought that maybe the entire thing was a dream, Morgan grabbed an extra blanket from the practice room and flopped onto the couch.  Hoping desperately that she hadn't gone crazy, she pulled the blanket up over her and fell asleep instantly.


End file.
